


A Stroll on the Plains

by BizarreAmy



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: And mentions of AroAce Haleth, And some not so serious ones, Asexual Aegnor, Author does not know how to title a fic, Banter, Crack, F/M, Humor, M/M, Or how to edit for that matter, Silly elves being silly, Some serious talks are had, Tags Are Hard, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-26
Updated: 2020-02-26
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:08:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22907536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BizarreAmy/pseuds/BizarreAmy
Summary: “Please tell me it’s not who I think it is,” he said, sounding very much like the annoying little brother he was. Aegnor never really had ceased being the baby, not even when Orodreth and Galadriel came along - at least, not to him. Around Angrod, he still behaved like a brat.“It is Morifinwë,” Angrod confirmed quietly, fighting the smile that wanted to sketch itself on his face.“Bugger me.” Aegnor was too in shock to put much emotion behind his words; otherwise, Angrod was sure his wailing would’ve been heard even in Thangorodrim. “Out of all our cousins, why a Fëanorion!? And out of all seven of them, why him? He hates us, for Valar’s sake!”OrTwo couples go out on a hike in the highlands of Ladros and the day is full of surprises for them all.
Relationships: Aegnor | Ambaráto/Andreth | Saelind, Angrod | Angaráto/Caranthir | Morifinwë
Comments: 5
Kudos: 22





	A Stroll on the Plains

**Author's Note:**

> Not beta-ed. Or edited. Written for an anonymous prompt that requested double date and some crack.

It was a serene day, the kind that made Angrod itch to ride across the heather strewn highlands of Ladros that stretched before his eyes. Just him and his mare, both one with the wilderness and the wildness residing inside them. But fate had been gracious to him lately and his trip to the Men of Ladros had yielded a pleasant surprise. Well, pleasant and nerve-wracking in equal measure, if he was being honest. The surprise - a certain someone whom he had been secretly longing to see again - was not known for gentleness or sweet talk. It had taken all of his iron-will to finally ask the question he had been dreading for decades now. Yet ask he had and so here they were - with his brother and his beloved adaneth leisurely approaching the hill he stood upon.

“So,” Aegnor said as he and Andreth came to a stop beside him. “Who is this mysterious person you were so afraid to woo on your own that you needed someone to hide behind?”

Angrod scowled, trying to hide how true the words resonated. “You’re not here for me to hide behind, brother. I merely thought he would feel better if we weren’t alone.”

“He?” Aegnor’s bushy eyebrows climbed up. “This is turning out to be interesting. But who are you fooling, aráto? It’s you who needs moral support here and not whoever your man is.”

Andreth chuckled, “Ha! If it’s moral support you need, my lord, then your brother is certainly not up to the task.”

“Oh shush you,” Aegnor replied, huffing in dismay. “I’m an excellent wingman, I’ll have you know. But I can’t help you, brother, unless I know who it is. Moreover, why didn’t you say that you liked an Edain before? I’ve been the butt of everyone’s joke for loving a mortal. Even sweet Finrod pulled my leg!” Turning to the woman again, he smiled, “Don’t mind them, dear, they’re just jealous.”

“Of me, I wager,” Andreth said, returning the besotted look, “Since I have all your attention.”

Angrod rolled his eyes at the display. Thank the Valar _He_ wasn’t likely to indulge in such sappiness. Or was he? Angrod had only seen one aspect of his personality after all. And from what he’d seen, the rest wasn’t likely to be rosy either. Which was just as well, because Angrod had a reputation to maintain and making googly eyes at the object of his affections was not it. Right?

“You still haven’t told us who this man is, Aráto,” Aegnor cajoled, shuffling his feet impatiently. “Come now. What’s with the secrecy?”

Just as he was about to answer, a muttered curse reached them, carried over by the chilly north wind. And there, half a yard away, was Caranthir the Dark, leading an equally dark horse across the uneven ground of the plains. The highlands of Dorthonion could be tricky to traverse for an inexperienced horse, and the one Caranthir had borrowed from Celegorm’s stables was young and a lot less sure-footed than Caranthir’s own mount in Thargelion. Both horse and master looked sullen to be out, even from this distance, and Angrod gulped at what it could mean for this highly awaited outing he had planned. Beside him, Andreth was squinting to make out the figures while Aegnor had gone pale. “Please tell me it’s not who I think it is,” he said, sounding very much like the annoying little brother he was. Aegnor never really had ceased being the baby, not even when Orodreth and Galadriel came along - at least, not to him. Around Angrod, he still behaved like a brat.

“It is Morifinwë,” Angrod confirmed quietly, fighting the smile that wanted to sketch itself on his face.

“Bugger me.” Aegnor was too in shock to put much emotion behind his words; otherwise, Angrod was sure his wailing would’ve been heard even in Thangorodrim. “Out of all our cousins, why a Fëanorion!? And out of all seven of them, why him? He hates us, for Valar’s sake!”

Nevermind, spoke too soon about the wailing.

Andreth was clearly enjoying this though. “Well, they do say there’s a thin line between love and hate,” she remarked cheekily, eyes full of amusement as she watched him fidget. He glared at her, which only made her laugh and wiggle her eyebrows suggestively. Damn women and their sixth sense. Why was he cursed to be surrounded by women too perceptive for their own good? First his mother, then Nerwen, even his niece Finduilas on occasion, and now this adaneth.

“Love!?” Aegnor all but shrieked, shaking his head furiously in denial. “No. I refuse. Never. You cannot, Aráto. You hear me? I refuse.”

Sweet Eru, was that a foot stomp? Who declared Aegnor a grown elf? His parents and he were going to have words. And why did Finrod get the more mature sibling? Angrod should have pulled a Nerwen when he had the chance, would’ve saved him the embarrassment of being seen with this man-child in public. “Behave!” he hissed at him, clenching his hands to keep from twisting the brat’s ear. “Or I swear to Eru, I will-”

Aegnor snorted, cutting him off, “You’re a Fëanorion lover, alright. Invoking Eru’s name at every-” He stopped suddenly with a yelp and glowered at Angrod who had smoothed his expression and removed every trace of being the one to have had stomped on his foot. Aegnor never got a chance to retaliate though, for they were joined by their half-cousin not a moment later.

“Aegnor, my lady Andreth,” Caranthir greeted, voice just a touch warmer than the wind blowing wisps of his raven hair across his flushed face, and turned to nod at him last, “Angaráto.”

And Angrod started panicking. Why would he call him Angarato when he called his brother Aegnor? What did it mean? Was he angry? Was Quenya reserved for special people? Which was it!? And the nod! Was it yay? Or nay? Why one for him and none for the other two? Manwë save him, he was going to hyperventilate.

Aegnor gave him a funny look when he couldn’t reply beyond a strangled ‘Moryo’ which he had to repeat as his throat refused to cooperate and produce the right sound at first. It was only when Andreth coughed to hide her laugh and Caranthir’s cheek turned even more red that he realised what ultimately came out of his mouth was a breathy ‘my Moryo’. Looks like he’d have to forego hyperventilating and faint outright at this point.

Caranthir sniffed, side-eyeing him top to bottom before saying in a much calmer tone than was his wont, “Get me a mithril chainmail and then we’ll talk.”

And now Aegnor’s funny look was directed at the Fëanorion. Stars above, was Moryo flirting? With him!? Never in a million years would he have imagined that his clumsy attempt at asking for a romantic stroll hike out, would’ve led to Caranthir playfully bantering with him. Somewhere, he registered the alarming shade of white-green-yellow his brother had turned into while Andreth patted his back in consolation. And he belatedly realised that the funny look Aegnor had before was actually a scandalised one and that if anyone was going to faint due to the surprising turn of events, it was Aegnor. But Angrod cared not, for he was too busy pinching himself over and over to make sure this was real and happening.

“Say, is that pallor normal for you, Aegnor?” Caranthir asked, lips curled into a smirk. “I wouldn’t know, you see. For I don’t consort with goldfish - dumbest variety out there, they say. All blink and no brain.”

And there was the Moryo they all knew and loved. Well, maybe only Angrod who loved. Perhaps his brothers as well? Who knows with those Fëanorions though. One time Celegorm had set Curufin’s clothes on fire and then cackled like a madman as the latter had chased him around. While still in a burning robe. The Fëanorian obsession with fire was a big concern, enough that their mutual uncle had called many a secret meeting to gauge the level of arsonist tendencies they were exhibiting and to prepare for damage control accordingly. Not that it helped much. But don’t tell Fingolfin that, he so loved being considered useful against the Feanorian arsonist agenda. Once burnt and twice murderous and all that.

“Yes, indeed, cousin,” Aegnor commented, regaining a bit of his equilibrium and drawing Angrod out of his digressing thoughts. “You don’t consort with them, you just like to bed them.”

Two pair of startled eyes looked anywhere but at each other as Andreth gasped loudly in the silence, making Aegnor wince at the insinuation he had made in the presence of a lady. Just how had his brother discovered the nightly trek he was making to Caranthir’s rooms? They’d been so careful, especially at Ladros. Their meeting at the settlement of Men had been an accident; Angrod was visiting to check up on his allies while Caranthir was on a trading tour. It was risky to carry on their late-night rendezvous outside of their own forts and their brothers’ where they had learnt every secret passageway. But they couldn’t resist the pull. A mistake which had led to his brother finding out clearly.

Aegnor scoffed, crossing his arms and giving off a self-satisfied aura, “Oh don’t look so shocked. I’ve known since you first started sneaking around. In Himring, wasn’t it?”

Angrod and Caranthir turned as one to appraise the younger elf in a new light. And in turn, both Aegnor and Andreth blinked at two completely opposite elves being so in sync. The two couple spent a moment sizing each other up, then Caranthir spoke up, “You’re not as stupid as you look.”

Andreth shook her head solemnly, “He’s worse.”

Caranthir’s lips twitched before he decided on smiling for a change and said to her, “I do believe these two have something to discuss. Shall we, my lady?” He extended an arm to the adaneth, who delightedly took it and threw a wink over her shoulder at the brothers left behind.

Angrod stared longingly at the backside he would rather be holding than the conversation he was about to have. And Aegnor had to ruin his admiration by opening his mouth, “See something you like?” He wasted no time in elbowing his irksome brother sharply enough to hurt.

“Ow.” Aegnor made a show of rubbing the spot, the baby. Maybe it wasn’t too late to exchange siblings with his cousins. Perhaps he could have Turgon? No, Finrod would eat him alive if he tried to steal his favourite cousin from him. Hmm. The Nolofinwions were all similarly claimed. A Fëanorion then? Well, Caranthir was the only one who didn’t scare him to death. _'Whatever helps you sleep, liar,'_ said a voice inside his head that sounded suspiciously like the elf in question. Whatever. He wasn’t about to have Caranthir as his sibling anyway, that would be weirder than the half-cousin relation they conveniently ignored while sleeping together. Maybe Nerwen would…

“You’re doing it again,” Aegnor remarked fondly.

“What?”

“Getting lost in your head. I can’t believe Moryo tolerates it, especially after hearing so many goldfish jokes from him.”

Angrod shrugged, “He likes being the smartest person in the room.”

“Hey,” Aegnor said, voice soft, and wrapped a warm hand around his nape. “You’re quite smart yourself, brother mine.”

“I know,” Angrod replied, reaching up to pat his cheek affectionately. “Moryo keeps telling me that I’m the least vapid of all Arafinwions.”

Aegnor released a long-suffering sigh then, “With that kind of romance, no wonder you needed my help.”

At that, Angrod pushed him away, “Much help you’ve been so far!”

“Well, forgive me if I needed a moment to get over the fact that you two were progressing towards sweet, soft, blessed romance,” Aegnor laughed, dodging another swipe. “At least if it was merely sexual pleasure, I could tell myself it was born of hate, you know?”

“You were always good at deluding yourself. Remember when-”

“Not again,” Aegnor groaned dramatically. “Why do you have to always bring that one up?”

“Because it’s funny and relays the absurdity of your mind quite accurately.”

“Don’t forget you need this very mind to teach you what romance is.”

Angrod shuddered, “I’m already rethinking it.”

Meanwhile, some ways away from where the brothers stood bickering like children, Caranthir and Andreth were actually fulfilling the purpose of their outing and taking a lovely stroll around the hillside. And having some serious conversation as well.

“How did you get him to bed you?” Andreth asked curiously, young eyes looking both hopeful and shy.

Caranthir lifted an eyebrow, “How do you know it wasn’t _I_ who bedded him?”

The blush that dusted her cheeks then looked lovely on her tanned skin in the waning sunlight. “You know what I mean,” she said, avoiding his eyes. “Aegnor loves me, I know. But he refuses to touch me beyond a sweet kiss once in a while. Is my mortality such an insurmountable truth? That his love cannot overlook it?”

He grew quiet for a long moment, mulling over the matter before he spoke in a voice used to solemn words. “Let me tell you about another adaneth, years before your time. Her name was Haleth of the Haladin,” he started and Andreth’s eyes sparked with recognition, “You may know of her, but you do not know her. I did. She was a lady both headstrong and beautiful. But what set her apart was her ability to love but to not desire romance. Her willingness to touch with fondness but never with carnal desire.”

“Oh.”

“Oh indeed,” he agreed. “It was just who she was. But never less lovable for what she could not feel the longing for.”

Andreth furrowed her brows, connecting the dots and trying to understand who Aegnor was in relation to this revelation. “So you mean there are people who love but don’t wish for intimacy?”

Caranthir tsked, “You’re confusing intimacy with sexual desire, my dear. They are two very different things. One could be intimate without having physical relations, or one could have such relations without being intimate.”

“Like you and Angrod?” she asked, taking him aback.

What could he say to that? It was neither true nor false. Were they without intimacy? Their fleeting touches and eye-contact in public would say otherwise. But if they were both intimate and sleeping together, what did it mean? Oh Eru. He was in a relationship! With an Arafinwion. What had his life come to?

Later, when the brothers caught up to the pair, it was four people much changed by their intervening talks that met again. Aegnor had gained an insight into what love meant for his elder brother and what it means to experience desire, while Angrod had learnt that romance had a pace of its own pace, wildly different from falling into bed at once. Andreth had finally figured out the reason for Aegnor’s reluctance, and Caranthir had realised during his long spiels about love and desire that maybe he loved Angrod after all. Needless to say, none were the same as they were before.

“Ah, there you are,” Caranthir commented soon as they came into view. “I thought that highlands would be a place where even Arafinwions could not get lost, but I clearly underestimated your level of ineptitude.”

Well, maybe some things would remain the same. Angrod wouldn’t have it any other way.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on Tumblr @eccentricmya


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